


Chuck

by manzanitaposts



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Beecher’s Hope, Charles secretly loves mocking John as much as Arthur did, Gen, In this AU John is aware that charles/arthur happened because he has the journal, John the rock farmer, epilogue au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manzanitaposts/pseuds/manzanitaposts
Summary: Charles is a huge help at running a ranch. Uncle has a lot to say. Even with Arthur dead and buried, John can’t seem to escape feeling like a foolish little brother.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, John Marston & Arthur Morgan, John Marston & Charles Smith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Chuck

**Author's Note:**

> for si <3 thank u for inspiring this fic. everyone else I sure hope y’all enjoy it too!

Summer on the Great Plains hung closer than a dog’s breath. Sweat ran down the back of his neck as John dug his shovel into the dry, packed earth with a vengeance. He was wildly in debt to the same bank he had once robbed, over a patch of earth too dry and dusty to grow anything except rocks. Uncle’s snide remark from months ago, when he had first purchased the land, buzzed like an insistent insect in his ear.  _John the rock farmer._ The rock he was currently working on finally pried free of the parched earth, and John crouched to lift it. For all the muscle he’d put on in months of ranching, it apparently wasn’t enough, because his arm wrenched awfully when he tried.

“God  _damnit_!”  John growled, tucking his sore arm against his side protectively. A few yards away, Charles glanced up from the rock he was digging up. 

“You need help?” He asked. Despite the oppresive heat, Charles seemed to be faring much better than John. Sweat ran down him all the same, but he moved through this task with the same ease as he did everything else. For a moment, he reminded John powerfully of Arthur — the man, the myth, the untouchable legend, and he was so grateful to Charles for sticking around and helping him it caught at his lungs.

“Yeah, that’d be appreciated.” John grunted. Uncle, who had done nothing except stand holding the wheelbarrow they were depositing the rocks into, piped up.

“Make sure you’re lifting with your arms, not your back!” He offered. John glared.

“You know, you could help us with the digging too.” 

“You’re lucky I’m even pushing the wheelbarrow! I got lumbago, I could aggravate it real bad!” Uncle defended.

“I’ll aggravate your lumbago—“ John threatened, but Charles stepped between them.

“Come on, John.” He crouched by the rock, and John followed suit, taking the other side. It was manageable with the two of them, but still a massive pain in the ass — the wheelbarrow creaked menacingly when they deposited the rock, but stayed standing.

“Thanks, Charles.” They returned to their digging. The afternoon wore on, and so did the heat. John felt like he wanted to pick a fight with the sky. 

“Why are we even digging these rocks out?” He remarked for no reason in particular. “Can’t we just plant crops around them?” Uncle snorted.

“Sure, if you want all the crops to die because they got no room to grow. And if you have a magical plow that won’t break when it runs into a rock. Even you ain’t that dumb, John Marston.” Having a logical explanation should have made him feel better, but the explanation came from  _Uncle_ ,  so it made him feel even worse.

“I don’t plan on growing that many crops! I could plow by hand, around the rocks.” John argued. He knew he was being stupid, and as much as it pained him, Uncle was right. But he was  _hot_ ,  and mad, and he wanted to let it out.

“You need pasture land for them animals you plan on keeping! Or do you wanna keep buying hay forever?” Uncle taunted.

“Oh, shut up old man! Sorry I asked!” John moved on to another patch of rock filled dirt, attacking it with all the frustration he could muster. 

“Careful, John, you’re gonna break that shovel.” Uncle commented. Charles made a noise that John would swear was a laugh. He whipped his head towards Charles suspiciously, but the man looked as stoic as ever, shoveling rocks out of the ground.

“No I  _ain’t_!  We got these shovels from Nils, he didn’t come all the way from Norway to do nothing but make tools and have them break easy!” With each word, John struck the earth with the blade of the shovel, and the metallic  _clang_ of metal on rock rang through the ranch yard. “See! They’re fine tools!” John snapped. He turned to Charles. “Back me up, Chuck!” A beat passed, and Charles paused in his digging. Uncle just stared with that typical, stupid look on his face. Another beat passed. Charles glanced at John.

“Who are you talking to?” He asked innocently. John threw the shovel onto the dirt, and immediately felt stupid for it. He picked his shovel back up, and kept digging. John snuck a few glances at Charles, wondering how eight years past, Arthur had found a way to haunt him.


End file.
